


For Love and Flowers

by tifarising



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Commission fic, M/M, Original Character(s), someone else's original character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifarising/pseuds/tifarising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of the lengths two Coatl boyfriends will go for winterbelles and the jam they make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Love and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for FR user [Shannen](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=view&tab=userpage&id=48858), featuring their dragons. The plot was also their suggestion! All I own is the story itself.
> 
> Some paraphrased background on the characters:
> 
> \- Zen is an energetic, effusive Coatl who loves winterbelle jam. Pictured [here](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=dragon&id=48858&did=4290401).  
> \- Kriem is the clan alchemist, who makes the winterbelle jam Zen loves. He's quiet, full of sarcasm where Zen is full of sunshine. Pictured [here.](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=48858&tab=dragon&did=4194911)
> 
> Other dragons mentioned are [Entropy](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=48858&tab=dragon&did=2907385), [Cassandra](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=48858&tab=dragon&did=2717354), [Buttons](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=48858&tab=dragon&did=2968069) and [Pyroclast](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=48858&tab=dragon&did=2968071).
> 
> I also highly recommend reading the [encyclopedia entry on Coatls](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=wiki&article=25)! It's not necessary to follow the story, and I drew from it rather than sticking to it religiously, but it's just plain interesting stuff. ♥ Flight Rising lore.

"Currm, ‘ese san’ichshs are delishushh!" Zen said, cramming the last square of toast into his mouth.

"I hope you didn’t expect me to understand… whatever _that_ was," Kriem replied, tail flicking lazily through some jungle grass. 

Zen mock-glared and gulped his mouthful down. "I _said_ , 'Kriem, these sandwiches are delicious,' but I totally take it back. They’re just… uh… decently good. Yeah. Tasty, and crunchy and sweet and wonderful, and do you have more anywhere?" - he started nosing around the grove, as if Kriem kept his food stores lying around the juneflowers - "but definitely not _delicious_."

Kriem laughed quietly. "Well, you’ve certainly convinced me. And no, that was the last one." He couldn’t help but laugh some more at Zen’s look of genuine, wide-eyed horror. "Sorry, but those were Winterbelle Squares, and you, my dear, have eaten me clean out of winterbelle jam."

Zen shook his head, vibrant orange feathers rustling every which way. "No way. You can’t be out of jam. That’s like, our Thing!"

"I thought Our Thing was afternoon tea."

"Well yeah, but - "

"And long walks through the lucky star gardens."

"That too! Okay listen - "

"And just yesterday, I seem to recall you saying, 'Wow, Kriem, you give the best feather-groomings I’ve ever had. Let me do yours next and this can totally become Our Thing!'" He smirked at Zen triumphantly.

"Look. Kriem. Us being an inspirationally compatible couple with lots and lots of amazingly romantic shared activities one might even call our ‘Things’, plural, is not the _point_. The point is - " Zen’s eyes screwed shut in what Kriem affectionately thought of as his 'thinking face'. Just as fast, though, his eyes shot back open again, wider than ever and full of the kind of determined enthusiasm Kriem knew spelled trouble. "The point is, you have to make more!"

Oh. Was that all? "I can’t."

"Can’t… or won’t?!?" Zen’s enthusiasm grew several shades more enthusiastic. Kriem was starting to get worried.

"No, Zen, I really can’t. I used up the last of our winterbelles on the jam you just finished. I was hoping you’d move on to more temperately-blooming food obsessions before you noticed."

"I would always notice the sudden, grievous lack of the jam which is Our Thing!" Zen declared sincerely. (And enthusiastically.) "But no matter! I know what we must do!"

"Do you." It sounded almost like he was hoping for this to happen. Kriem was _very_ worried.

"Yes…" Zen’s mouth curled into a little secret smile. "Lovely time of year for a trip to Boreal Wood, wouldn’t you say?" 

What? "No, actually. It’s the dead of winter, Zen."

"Come on, Kriem! It’ll be perfect." Zen gave his plume a careless toss, the kind he knew Kriem found positively irresistible, before making his final pitch: "We’re going to go on a winterbelle harvesting expedition!"

*

If you asked Kriem to describe himself in a sentence, even a very long, run-on sentence, neither "easily manipulated" nor "full of bad decisions" would make it anywhere near the final draft. But somehow, where Zen was concerned, all of Kriem's good sense and practicality - alongside any hope for a will of his own - flew right into space.

Normally, if you came up to Kriem and said "How about you, a dragon with no combat training whatsoever, who spends most of his days fiddling with alchemy and chasing the summer, go on an unplanned trip to one of the coldest, harshest, most dangerous regions in the realm… to pick flowers. Are you in?", he wouldn’t even dignify you with the scoff you deserve. He’d just turn and fly away.

But all Zen had to do was stare up at Kriem with those big, pink eyes, all guileless charm and hopeful expectation, and Kriem’s feathers would stiffen and his chest would tighten and a rush of _something_ would go through him, and in that moment, as in every moment, he’d find he couldn’t deny Zen a thing.

Even spontaneous trips to brutally miserable locales.

Really, the worst thing about this -

Well, the worst thing about it was Zen’s refusal to invite along a single member of the battle team. First it was "Entropy always complains about my humming. She’ll kill the whole mood!", then it was "Ugh, not Cassandra; just looking at her wings makes me want to find a nice fire to curl up beside. Having her there will make us even colder than we’ll already be!" (followed by, " _Yes_ , I do one hundred percent still think we should go! Honestly, Kriem."). There was some complaint about Pyroclast being an old fuddy-duddy who didn’t know how to have fun, and even Buttons, a likeable dragon who wasn’t much of a fighter but was still better than nothing (well, better than either of them, which was pretty much the same thing), Zen had the strength of will to reject: "You know I can’t understand a thing that Fae says!" 

Eventually Kriem got Zen to confess that his real issue with letting a stronger member of the clan accompany them was that it would mean it was no longer just the two of them, making their half-baked trip less _romantic_ , and that… well, that was so damned sweet that Kriem found himself going along with it. 

As previously stated: Kriem + Zen = Kriem - Common Sense. A simple, but universal, equation.

Anyway. The other worst thing about this was that Zen really seemed to believe Kriem had been swayed by his _logic_.

Sure, it was true that Kriem had accompanied the battle team on trips to Boreal Wood and other such venues on many occasions in the past, to collect ingredients for his alchemy, meaning that yes, it was also true that he had witnessed a good deal of exquisitely complex battle strategy in action, _and_ that he knew precisely where to find Boreal’s lushest winterbelle patches… and it’s not like Zen was _wrong_ about just how much Kriem loved winterbelles, loved to chip them out of their frozen patches of dirt and rearrange them in careful, square-shaped rows in his planter, loved to bring them home and watch them thaw and flourish in the sunlight, loved their scent and their shape and their blossoms, loved pressing them and grinding them and soaking their petals for jam, loved the punch-drunk look on Zen’s face when he _tasted_ that jam... 

Fine. Kriem really, really loved winterbelles. It was undeniable.

But!! None of that would have been enough to convince him to participate in Zen’s webwing-brained scheme. After all, he did have some sense of self-preservation, and he did know the difference between watching other, stronger dragons fight, and having the training or the battle stones to ever recreate their strategy on his own.

No, Kriem did not agree to this ludicrous idea because Zen persuaded him with _logic_.

Kriem agreed because… well, because Zen was Zen. The only thing in all the realm Kriem loved more than winterbelles (and he loved winterbelles a _lot_ ). It didn’t bear mentioning the things he’d do for that impulsive, beautiful, foolish, wonderful dragon; risking pulverization at the fists of a Coarsefur Yeti was hardly scratching the surface.

So. Here they were. Shivering their tails off and risking oblivion, on behalf of love, and some (pretty fantastic) flowers.

Kriem wondered if he could blame Zen for the reckless excitement thrilling through him right now. For the fact that, heedless of all basic survival instincts, he kept finding himself thinking that this _might_ be kind of fun.

Yes. He could, and he would. Getting fired up at a time like this? That wasn’t Kriem-like. That was Zen-like. This had the winsome-eyed Coatl’s influence all over it. No, Kriem simply refused to take responsibility for his actions from this point forward.

Gamely pretending he wasn’t smiling, Kriem led their little party of two deeper into the Wood.

*

"Are we almost there, Kriem? I’m really cold."

"Of course you’re cold. We’re both cold. We knew going in we’d be cold. We’re in the Southern Icefield in the middle of winter! What in Arcanist’s name did you expect?"

"Wow. Grumpy." Zen hummed thoughtfully. "Listen, babe… if you wanna give up and go home, I wouldn’t think less of you for it. We tried, and that’s all that matters!" He couldn’t quite get the last sentence out without audibly shivering, and Kriem scowled.

"I don’t think so. If your resolve is weakening, don’t you dare put it on me. I’ll have you know, Zen, I’m in this till the bitter end." He curled his tail against his body protectively, trying to generate heat. "The bitterly _cold_ , end."

"If you say so." Zen was eyeing Kriem like he was as full of stuff and bluster as, frankly, he was, but he didn’t try to suggest they leave again after that.

Zen also didn’t comment on the way Kriem had dodged his question regarding their distance from these legendary flowers of his. Kriem liked to think that that was because it was such a smooth and graceful question-dodging, but probably Zen was just too cold to bother pressing him.

Kilometer after kilometer they flew, whorls of snow brushing past them in thick, wet streaks, and, wind-whipped and wing-sodden though he was, Kriem was starting to feel a little optimistic. 

He'd seen Rasa tracks and caught a glimpse of a Shalebuck in passing a ways back, but since then the part of the Wood they were cutting a path through remained remarkably desolate. The thought of facing a Winter Wolf head-on did get his blood pumping suspiciously eagerly, but he'd much rather survive all this than indulge his emerging inclination for daredevilry.

And it was beginning to look like they just might. Survive, that is. While it was taking longer to get to his favorite winterbelle grove than Kriem had expected - and while he kept hoping they'd stumble on a patch he hadn't known existed, if only to get this over with and back to the warmth of Starfall that much sooner - he _did_ know where they were, and it shouldn't be long now.

The smooth black trees they’d been weaving in and out of started grouping closer and closer together, and Kriem realized with some excitement that he recognized the way these particular softwoods clustered together. At long last, they were coming to the entrance to the grove; it was surrounded by dense, interlocking branches, a kind of natural protective wall around Boreal’s more delicate life. The team had discovered it by accident on one campaign, fleeing after a particularly bad battle and looking for a place to rest and recover, one where new beasts were less likely to find them. Kriem trailed along, ready to pitch in with potions and head wraps where needed, ever grateful for the opportunity to be here, collecting ingredients while his clansmates scraped and scratched and risked their lives. He had never expected to follow them into a miniature _utopia_ , though, a slice of paradise tucked away in the heart of a harsh, cold wasteland. 

The grove had everything: black tulips and blue tulips and wolfsbane, superberries and winter’s delight and tundra cacti clamoring for sunlight, arctic scrub swathing the roots of the fir trees like a rough, beautiful blanket. Ingredients he’d have to fly all over the world to forage on a good day, and a few he couldn’t find anywhere but right here. And glistening there in the center of it all, light catching on frozen petals, were rows upon rows of gorgeous, healthy winterbelles, untouched by the elements, and unspeakably perfect.

Kriem remembered the way Cassandra’s gentle laughter had vibrated through the air as he took it all in, expression probably caught somewhere between wonder and rhapsody. He put himself together quickly enough; there were wounded fighters who needed attending, after all. His flowers could wait. But he’d never forget the breathless awe of that first moment, a feeling he hadn’t felt since - well.

It didn’t bear thinking aloud; even in his own head, he tried to keep the sappy thoughts to a minimum. Arcanist knew, the last thing Kriem needed was for Zen to somehow develop telepathy and witness Kriem’s world revolving around him with his own eyes. Mind’s eyes. Whatever. The point was, any time Kriem even hinted at how deeply his affections ran, Zen would puff up with gloating pleasure for _days_. No, he didn’t need to add to the other Coatl’s remarkable ego, no matter how adorable he thought Zen looked when he was preening.

He chanced a glance behind him. Zen didn’t look particularly puffed or preened up right now. He looked positively bedraggled, wet and cold and miserable. It would be a heart-wrenching sight were success not a wing’s flap away, and Kriem felt a smile tugging at his teeth as he considered the most entertaining way to break the good news. 

Before he could, though, he caught a glimpse of something far more disturbing than even an unhappy Zen: The jagged spikes and terrible scowl of a giant, hulking Hoarfrost Mauler.

"Zen! Get behind me!" he shouted, without hesitation. Of the two of them, it was anyone’s guess who would fare better in a fight, but Kriem was the one who had seen countless Maulers go down before his eyes. Kriem was also the one who added sarcasm and elixirs of dubious virtue to the world, not sunshine and buoyant laughter. 

It was morbid, but Kriem was utilitarian enough to know which of them would be the greater loss. (Utilitarian or emotionally compromised, take your pick; his decision would be _exactly_ the same.)

Once Zen was sandwiched between Kriem and the grove, looking confused but safe, Kriem took a deep breath and steeled himself. All he could do now was Meditate and wait.

And then, all he knew was darkness.

*

"Entropy, you owe me a chest."

Muddled Draconic filtered into Kriem’s peripheral awareness. 

"Whatever. I hope you know you’re only getting a Rusted. Your bet was rigged, Cassandra; of course they ended up here! It’s Zen and _Kriem._ "

Kriem wondered foggily what that was supposed to mean, and then promptly forgot what he was wondering. Some monotone vibrations droned through the air, now, distantly identifiable as Buttons. (Kriem could never understand a word that Fae said, either… but Zen didn’t have to know that.) 

He should probably open his eyes. But he just felt so heavy… so cold, and so tired, and as if his head weighed fifty kilograms more than the rest of his body. Maybe he could sleep, for just a little longer?

Besides, why should he wake up before Zen did? That didn’t seem fair.

Wait… Zen!

Kriem’s eyes snapped open, and leaden and achy though it was, his head still surged up out of the snow in a frenzy, whipping back and forth to try to locate his mate, instincts on overdrive as his waking mind struggled to catch up.

They’d fallen, presumably in battle. That much he could make sense of. How Entropy and the others had found them, and why, if he couldn’t remember getting even one Contuse in, he was still _alive_ …

For a few too-long moments, the dread choking his lungs made Kriem feel like he was underwater with no sign of the surface. Then he caught sight of Zen, alive and whole and chattering away with Entropy as if all was right in the world, and Kriem could breathe again.

"Zen!" he called out, not yet sure he could trust what was in front of him. "Are you all right?"

Eyes widening, Zen abandoned the conversation with Entropy and bounded urgently to Kriem’s side.

"Kriem! You’re awake! How are you feeling? You know who I am, so that’s good, but… how many claws am I holding up?"

"Get your foot out of my face." Kriem swatted him away happily. This was real. Zen was really okay. And as for Kriem, well... "I’m alive, and that’s good enough for me.” 

He swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Zen, do you know what happened?"

"Um, well. I kinda, like… passed out from fear."

"Wait. What?"

Zen’s tail squirmed around his legs self-consciously. "I know, I know. Not my proudest moment, but I just totally freaked! It’s like something in me shut down before the rest of me could tell it to chill out. Anyway, the team here managed to revive me pretty quick, but with that knock on your head they weren’t sure how soon you’d wake up, and - "

"What happened to the Mauler, in that case?" Kriem chanced an uneasy look around. 

"The… Mauler?"

"Did you see me get any hits in before you passed out? Did I - " Kriem dropped his humming to a whisper. "Did I do anything, er, brave?"

"Kriem, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about."

Kriem frowned. "What are _you_ talking about, then."

"Well, first, you crashed into a tree."

"I did _what??_ "

"I mean, I guess it was kind of a brave tree-crashing. You made me get behind you before you knocked yourself out, which I still don’t really understand but I’m sure was quite noble of you. Somehow. But yeah, we were flying together and I was too cold to be paying much attention and you shouted 'Zen, get behind me!!', and then, BAM! SPLAT!"

Kriem could not believe what he was hearing. 

He almost felt like crying. Or laughing. Or both.

"So there was no one-on-one battle with a huge, terrifying ice bear."

"What ice bear? You saw an ice bear? Why didn’t you say something?"

"Never mind." Kriem let his head fall back into the snow, defeated.

Then he thought of something else.

"Zen, if it wasn’t from the fright of seeing me take on a monster much larger than myself… why in all the Deities’ names did you faint?!?"

Zen peered down at him like he was asking why winter was cold. "Because you crashed into a tree!" 

As if that explained it.

Kriem just stared at Zen, wordlessly urging him to understand: that did _not_ explain it.

Zen tossed his plume; his feathers were soggy and clumped together, so it didn’t have quite the usual effect, but Kriem was charmed in spite of himself. "It was _really_ scary, Kriem. One minute you were leading me through the Wood like you were born here, and I was admiring how thick and dark your plumage looks when it’s wet, and the next there was this huge crack and then you were just _lying_ there. I didn’t know what was happening and I didn’t know why you weren’t there with me anymore, of course I freaked out!"

It sounded like Zen had fainted before managing to check if Kriem was even conscious. Or alive. As involuntary bodily defense mechanisms went, it _was_ sweet, Kriem supposed. Useless, but sweet.

He sighed, not without fondness. "And you really didn’t see any signs of a bear? Was I just seeing things?"

Entropy chose that moment to intrude on their little meeting. She was one of the few members of their clan who could understand them when they spoke their own tongue, and used it for all kinds of unabashed eavesdropping. "We saw a Hoarfrost Mauler stumbling away from your passed out bodies when we were flying in, if that’s what you mean. We all assumed the worst until we got closer."

Kriem’s eyes widened. "Yes! So it _was_ real!"

"It was. It probably thought the two of you were dead already, and went off looking for fresher prey. Can’t imagine you having survived that thing any other way, so… well played, both of you."

"Thanks!!" Zen crowed, either missing or ignoring the blatant sarcasm.

Entropy grinned at Kriem, who probably looked at least a tenth of as embarrassed as he felt. "Should probably get your head wrapped up sometime in the next lifetime. Then we can lecture you on coming out here yourselves, because seriously, what were you _thinking?_ "

"Winterbelles," Zen answered solemnly. "We were thinking, winterbelles." He heaved a long, wistful sigh. "I’m glad we’re alive, and all, but it’s a shame we’ll be going home empty-handed."

Entropy eyed Kriem, then nodded towards the grove sitting a bough’s-length away. "Do you want to show him, or should I?"

"Show me? Show me what?"

"Just. Entropy, wrap up my head, would you? And then move aside. This was _our_ adventure, you know."

Entropy snorted. "Your last adventure, I would hope. But very well."

"Seriously guys, what are you talking about?" Zen was practically vibrating with excitement. "What’s there to see?" He started nosing around the snow drifts, and it was so similar to the eager search for winterbelle jam that had started all this, Kriem couldn’t help but laugh.

And then Entropy was patting his head to let him know he was safe to move around, and Kriem was pushing himself up onto wobbly legs and pulling branches aside to lead Zen into his little slice of heaven, and.

The glen was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, but even more breathtaking was the sight of Zen, eyes wider than ever, jaw slack in stunned astonishment, realizing that there was, in fact, a pot of gold at the end of their rainbow.

Kriem let him take it all in for a few minutes, familiar smile touching his own lips. Eventually he reached into the pouch at his side to pull out his (mercifully intact) planter, and started the slow, soothing process of potting winterbelles to take home.

Zen wouldn’t help, of course. But he did slink over to Kriem’s side, and drape himself across Kriem’s back while he worked, resting his head on Kriem’s shoulder with a contented purr.

And Kriem wondered, how he ever could have thought of this place as "paradise", before Zen was there with him.

* 

It was as they were flying home that the euphoria finally wore off enough for Kriem to feel how badly his head and shoulder were throbbing. He winced, and evidently the wince was dramatic enough for Zen to notice.

"Kriem," he murmured, expression worryingly serious. "This was great, but… next time, just say no, okay?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know you love your winterbelles, but if I ever propose something this dangerous again, shoot me down! They’re not worth it."

Kriem sighed. "Zen." He flew closer, so he could nudge his forehead against Zen’s. "Zen, look at me. There’s something I need you to understand." 

Zen blinked up at him, still looking a little (extremely unacceptably) sad. "Yeah?"

"I like winterbelles, Zen. This is true. But I _love_ you."

A strangled hum caught in Zen’s throat. Kriem smiled gently.

"You know I agreed to come because it was you asking me, right? Not because of some silly old flowers." He absentmindedly ran a claw through Zen’s messily drying plumage, affection thrumming in his chest. "I’d do it all over again, too."

Zen swallowed. "I… I think I did know that, deep down. But Kriem… there’s something I need _you_ to understand." 

A storm passed across Zen’s face, leaving it dark and cold. Kriem didn’t think he’d seen Zen angry, _ever_. He shivered.

"Um, yes?"

"If you _ever_ try to fight a dangerous monster on your own again, let alone even _think_ about throwing me out of the line of fire, trees to the head will be the least of your concerns!" He growled. "Do I make myself clear?"

Kriem’s eyes were the ones to widen now. "Of course, Zen. I, uh. I won’t do that again, I promise."

"Thinking you can get all suicide mission on me and I won’t even notice…" Zen grumbled to himself. "Reckless self-endangerment is _my_ thing. You’re supposed to be the responsible one!"

Kriem started snickering, he couldn’t help it. Zen was glaring at him, and while his glares were considerably less icy than most other dragons, they were still so out of place on him that Kriem knew he would have withered at the sight in any other circumstance. But, it was just:

"Are you sure it’s not… Our Thing?"

Zen stared at him. And stared. For a tense moment, Kriem wondered if he’d actually done it. If he’d actually managed to make the most good-natured dragon in the clan so angry he couldn’t speak.

Then Zen let out a peculiar little sound, and then that sound turned into some new, louder sounds, and before Kriem could ask if he was okay, he realized what the sounds were.

Clutching at his belly as he rolled through the air, now, Zen was _screeching_ with laughter. Kriem found his own chuckles growing louder at the sight, and before long the two of them were shrieking and shaking and probably frightening the stuffing out of their clansmates, but Kriem couldn’t bring himself to care.

"I guess - " Zen said, once their laughter had trickled off into the occasional little shudder. "I guess maybe we do have too many Things at this point, huh?"

"Yeah. Maybe we should stick to afternoon tea for the time being."

"Yeah." 

"Kriem?"

"Yes?"

"You know I love you too, right?"

"You think I’d hang around if I thought otherwise?"

"Um… yes?"

Kriem scowled. He was probably right, was the worst thing. But - "Yes, Zen. I do know."

"Good."

"Hmm."

The sack of winterbelles was a solid, welcome weight at his side, matching the feeling of full, heavy warmth inside him. Whatever cockamamie ideas Zen had in the future, Kriem knew he would follow him through all of them, if only to keep this feeling alive.

He let himself revel a little more, smiling, as they flew towards home.


End file.
